Free Into the Night: Inspector Rykel Book 2 (Amsterdam Quartet) by Jake Woodhouse

was bothering him, started trying to loosen it.
    ‘Cleaned? I didn’t shit in it, did I?’
    ‘Look, best I can do,’ the guy said, sliding another set of keys over to him and going back to his dental grooming. ‘Last on the right.’
    Kees scooped the keys up, walked to the end of the space and stopped dead.
    He’s got to be kidding
, he thought.
    He pressed the button on the key fob. The lights flashed once, and a soft beep told him the guy really hadn’t been kidding.
    As Kees motored out he wondered just why the Amsterdam Police Force had a single-seater electric car.

13
    Saturday, 8 May
19.47
    Tanya shifted down the seat, a stud on the back of her jeans catching the worn fabric.
    The front door of the house she was watching opened, and a man stepped out, pulling the door closed behind him. He turned to fit the key in the lock, his shoulders hunched.
    This was the first time in over sixteen years that Tanya had seen Ruud Staal, and he was older, fatter, his posture worse. He turned back to the road and started off down the path. Tanya caught a glimpse of his face.
    It was then she felt like throwing up.
    This man who had ruined her life was walking down the street, free.
    Her hands gripped the steering wheel, which seemed to be vibrating. Then she realized it was her hands shaking, knuckles white from the pressure.
    She’d come to confront him, to get him to confess to what he’d done. After that she’d make a formal statement, get him arrested. And while in theory she’d be offered anonymity at a trial, she knew that somehow her name would get out.
    She realized that it was that more than anything which had held her back; she didn’t want anyone to know what had happened to her, couldn’t bear the thought that her life would be laid bare. All because of him. But she knewshe had to do this, or the secret was going to kill her, suck all the life out of her, leave her living in black and white, just as she’d been doing all these years.
    Do it now
.
    One of her hands moved from the wheel to the lever which opened the car door. She pulled it and the door opened with a click. He was on the opposite side of the road, his back to her, walking like he was normal, walking like he was innocent, walking like he’d never shoved his cock into a fifteen-year-old’s mouth then scared and manipulated them into staying silent.
    But Tanya knew different.
    And now she was going to do something about it. But just as she opened the door and stepped out a green car, some kind of hatchback with wooden panels on the sides, drew up alongside him, and after a few words with the driver, Staal got in.
    Tanya stood in the wedge between her car and the open door, her hand on the metal roof, a thin layer of grime rough under her fingertips, and watched as the car indicated and moved off.
    Life went on around her: a motorbike roared by, a group of kids ran down the street shouting, the sun shifted its position closer to the North Sea, shadows crept along the ground, lengthening, reaching out for her.
    She felt hot suddenly, a prickling which exploded on her neck and rose up to her face. She turned round, legs unsteady, crouched down and vomited right on to the black asphalt.
    Her eyes were closed. She felt splashback on her face.
    Back in the car – she was thinking she should clear upher sick but didn’t have anything to do it with – she fired up the motor, indicated, checked the mirrors and pulled out slowly, each action deliberate, each movement taking her whole focus.
    Minutes later the noise of a car horn being hit repeatedly settled in her mind. She noticed she was stopped at a light, showing green, the man’s face in the car behind distorted with anger. She waited until the light changed, then shot the car forward.
    If he jumps it I’ll book him
, she thought, checking the rear-view mirror. He didn’t. He just flicked her a middle finger.
    She was able to breathe again now even though everything was looking weird; familiar